Moments
by SnowChaser
Summary: From pre-game to post-game, a series of ficlets and one-shots centered around Hawke, Anders, and those who love them.
1. Comfort

**Title:** Comfort  
><strong>Author:<strong> SnowChaser  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Hawke x Anders (between Acts I and II)  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> First in a series of one-shots involving Hawke and Anders which I am calling "Moments". Prompts and requests, in the form of one to five words, are accepted and welcome. These, unlike my 'What Have You Done?' and 'Come To An End', are meant to be fluffy. Artemis was a Spirit Healer, not a Force mage, so she was a bit more delicate in personality then Kiya, and much more eager to please. This is a little known author fact, but I am *terrified* of storms when they roll in off the coast (I live in New England, so we see them frequently), and so, Temmi has developed the same fear.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> She never did see why she couldn't choose the most appealing solution to her problem…

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><p>'CRRAAACCCCKKKKK!'<p>

The sound of thunder, ominously booming overhead, woke the woman with a start. For a brief, terrifying second, she flailed, crying out and trying to untangle herself from the mess of blankets her unease had created, before she managed to free herself to sit upright. A flash of lightning streaked past her window, which was being battered by rain without mercy. At the foot of her bed a mabari lifted its head, whining as if it sensed the fear radiating off of his mistress. Loki, for that was this hounds name, knew she feared storms, and sympathetically came to her, nudging one hand with a wet nose, and 'woofing' softly.

"It's okay, boy." Her voice shook, even as her body began to point out signs of distress. Rapid heart rate, swift breathing. Of course, she wanted to say. I'm scared! Instead, she slowly released her magic in a swirl of color, bathing the room in its radiance as she sought to comfort herself. Another peal of thunder raced overhead, and she looked to her door. Once, as a young girl, she would have run to her father, who would hold her until the storm had passed.

"Little Temmi, do not fear the storms, my love." He would whisper. And then he would call down the lightning, let her taste the rain… and will the storm to do his bidding, if only to calm his daughter's fears.

Now, as an adult, she had other ways of coping. Usually, she would read something absurd ('Hard in Hightown' came readily to mind), or recite the Chant of Light backwards- or forwards- to distract herself. Her other option was to drop in on one of her friends. But who?

Varric immediately came to mind. Her dwarf friend was warm and secure, with a heart the size of the city-state they lived in for his friends. There was nothing he would not do for those he called friend, she realized. But Bianca- or, more accurately, her memory- stood in her way there. Besides, as much as he loved her, she doubted he'd allow her to share his bed after a mile walk in the rain- she'd be dripping wet and probably resemble a drowned rat. So, no, no dropping in on Varric.

Isabella she crossed off for the opposite reason. Much as she loved the glamorous pirate from Rivain, she knew that the woman would gladly share her bed. It was no secret that 'Bella was interested in bedding her, at least once, and she shook her head. No. No, she would not encourage that to develop. They were close friends, but she could never, ever, imagine taking the pirate as a lover.

Merrill… now, that did hold a certain appeal. The petite elf was a mage, like her, so she didn't have to worry about lingering spells, or hurting her should she have a nightmare. But that mirror thing she kept in her room worried Hawke, and she could never, ever condone a Blood mage. Sweet as Merrill could be, there was something dark that took root in the soul when one used Blood magic, and she did not want to sully herself with that. No, the elf was no longer an option.

Fenris wasn't a viable option. No doubt he'd keep her warm, but he would do it by fisting her through the chest, and probably wouldn't want a wet mage crawling into bed with him. Not only that, his mansion was, to put it mildly, creepy. She didn't like the thought of being there, alone, with him. As sexy as that dark voice could be (and even she had to admit the tone did things to a girl), she rather liked breathing, thank you very much.

Aveline was another option- and a viable one- but Hawke couldn't do that. She was too familiar, too close. Her relationship with Aveline reminded her of her relationship with Bethany, only the Guard Captain was the older in this situation. She could be a friend, a sister, and in the next become a motherly figure, and she didn't relish waking the redhead, only to receive a lecture as to why she shouldn't wander Hightown so late at night.

Sebastian… and she snorted in amusement. He would be utterly mortified if she tried to crawl into bed with him. Not to mention he'd feel the need to wash and pay penance for seeing her in the dead of night. Besides, even with his bright eyes and curling auburn hair, he was a bore. She liked men with more spunk…

Which left the most appealing choice.

Anders had the build of a sprinter, all long limbs and lean height, giving him a decidedly streamlined appearance at first glance. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a very muscular man (and why would he be, mages did not need bulk), but he did have some definition to him, along with a reserve of strength that sometimes puzzled her. He was confident in his abilities, borderline cocky. So sure of himself- or was it so sure of his abilities as a Grey Warden? Still, his glorious mane of red-gold hair, aristocratic cheekbones, warm honey-colored eyes, and slightly crooked smile all added to the package, and she liked what she saw. Besides Varric, Anders was a constant companion- she loved his wit and watching him move with that baffling grace he had. Hell, she just *liked* him, period. She assumed it had to do with the 'L' word, but she refused to even think down that road. He was… a friend. Nothing more.

Still, out of the group, Anders was the most appealing choice. Besides, she reasoned, she didn't have to get wet to see him- the cellars of her new home reached to Darktown, and would put her out right next to his clinic.

Which left her with a choice: read, recite, or snuggle?

She saw no reason not to make the most appealing choice.

"Loki! Do you want to go see Anders?" She pitched her voice in a way that had the dog wriggling in anticipation, tail wiggling happily. "You do?" She pulled on her robe with a chuckle. While Anders was a cat man, she knew he secretly adored the hound (if he didn't, he would never have allowed the animal within his precious clinic), and the massive animal made her feel safe. "Shall we go see him, then?" She pulled on her boots, lacing them loosely. "C'mon, boy!" She opened her bedroom door, padding quietly down the stairs. She paused by her writing desk, penning a quick note to let her mother know she was alright, and safe, before she headed towards the cellars, dog in tow.

She loved the smell of the cellars. They smelled slightly musty (a scent she knew quite well from Lothering), but also of cedar and oak- both freshly cut wood and seemingly ancient, scarred barrels. She had decided to bring breakfast along as well (it was the least she could do- and Anders needed some meat on his bones). It had become a ritual, of sorts- she never came to Darktown empty-handed, giving him a way to indulge his Grey Warden appetite at least once a week. He never complained, often joking that she brought enough to feed a small army, only to wolf most of it down like a starving cat upon cream.

Inhaling, she smiled. Yes, she did love the smell of the cellars.

When she dropped down into Darktown, however, the scent changed, became almost disgusting. Trying not to retch, she swayed unsteadily against the ladder for a moment. Loki, who had been calculating the leap down, paused to whine and lick his mistress' cheek. She smiled, kissing the massive head before backing out and inviting the clumsy beast to come join her. In a solid leap, the hound landed, skidding only slightly, and she giggled. "You're such a good dog." She hugged him tightly, kissing his head again. Underground, the storm wasn't nearly so loud, and she sighed.

Yes, this was a good idea.

The lantern was lit over the door, meaning that, while Anders was most likely sleeping, he was within. For a moment, she hesitated. What if he was busy? What if he had another woman in there? But that thought made her shake her head- she would know if he did. How? Well… she just would, is all. Pushing open the door, quietly, she stepped inside, taking care to close the door behind her with a quiet 'click'. Instantly the calming scent of lavender enveloped her, and she smiled in spite of herself. Anders had a habit of lighting lavender-scented incense at least twice a day- to create a calming atmosphere, he claimed, but she knew better. It was to drive away the scent of Darktown, and it was why there was always a faint hint of lavender in his scent, mixed with elfroot and a tiny hint of patchouli.

However, regardless of the reason, it did have a calming effect- already she was starting to relax. "Loki, lay down." The dog laid near the door, instantly. "Good boy. Stay." A wagging stub of a tail was her response. With a smile, she headed for the alcove where she knew Anders slept, and had to smile.

The lanky mage was asleep on the edge of the straw-stuffed mattress, one arm dangling over the edge. He was, for the most part, fully clothed as well- it was as if he'd stretched out for a moment, just a short rest, and had no more energy to move. His breathing was slow and steady- a faint hint of a snore on the inhale. The image was too adorable, and she felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. He needed a keeper, she thought.

"Anders?" She called him softly- his only response was to mutter a brief 'wha-' then shift in his sleep. That made her smile- he wasn't disturbed by her presence if he was remaining that relaxed. "Anders?" She called him again- this time a groan and he actually rolled over, now facing the wall, back to her. This was another encouraging sign- he never turned his back on anyone, yet he let her see his vulnerability. Slowly, she crossed the room. There was enough room for her to crawl onto his pallet, but that wouldn't solve the newest problem, which was that she was cold.

She should have brought a blanket.

Shivering, she made a snap decision, and claimed the empty spot in the bed. She pressed in as close as she dared, hoping to absorb some of his body heat. Almost as soon as she began to settle, a pair of fuzzy brown eyes opened, confusion written in their depths.

"Hawke? What're ya doin'?" His voice was heavy with sleep, and he slurred his words, the trace accent he had becoming more pronounced. Even still, his arms wound around her, sleep momentarily keeping Justice at bay, and he tugged her into the warm nest of blankets he'd created. "C'mere, ye're shiverin' like a leaf in tha' wind." She didn't protest as he tucked her safely beside him, tangling his long legs with hers.

"I'm sorry… I just…." she attempted to explain, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips.

"Don' care. Sleep now." He snuggled into her further, and she hesitantly relaxed into his hold. She'd never slept with a man before, and even though they were only cuddling, being this close was strangely intimate.

She drifted off with her forehead against his neck, his chin nuzzling the top of her head in dreams.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night's sleep, or the last time he'd felt so rested. With a yawn, he shifted, hand encountering something warm and soft… and he blinked open his eyes. A wildly curling mass of gold-streaked brown greeted his eyes, and he speed focused to realize that he was sharing a bed with a woman.

Not just any woman- Hawke.

And it was *his* bed.

She was curled into him, body completely limp in his hold, a hint of a smile curling up the edges of her lips. She fit perfectly into the nest of blankets he'd created, her curvy little figure flush against him, every curve hit by a plane of his body, like she'd been made for him.

She was in *his* blankets.

And, he realized, their legs were apparently tangled together, because he found he couldn't move without waking her.

"Hawke…" he whispered her name, drinking in the faint scent of peppermint and lavender on her skin. She smelled divine, and her warmth was comforting. And… her lips were so close. It would be so easy to lean down and discover just how sweet those lips were- their unique texture and flavor. To delve deep and satisfy the curiosity he knew they both had for one another. He mentally shook himself- no, no matter how much he wanted, he couldn't.

"Hawke… sweetheart, wake up." She protested violently, with a half-growled insult before curling in closer, face buried into his neck. Oh, sweet Andraste, having her body heat so close was such a comfort… but no. He had to wake her up. Now. Before he dipped his head in and kissed her. "Sweetheart, open those pretty green eyes for me."

She did, but it was only to give him a welcoming, sleepy smile, and a protest. "Cozy."

"Yes, Hawke, it's cozy." He tried to stay stern, but he could never be mad at her, even for a moment, and gave in to rest his forehead against hers on the pillow. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"You mean you slept through that storm?" She raised a brow as she yawned.

"What storm?" He blinked.

"The gi-bloody-normous one that came in from sea last night! I thought for sure it would wake even the dead." She sighed, and he reached up to caress her cheek in an effort to soothe. He knew her fear of storms rivaled his fear of enclosed spaces, and so he comforted.

"No… I'm sorry. I'm used to the sounds of storms- someone was always casting something in the tower, so I just sleep right through them now." He sighed. "That still doesn't explain why you're in my bed, sweetheart." Not that he minded- he was enjoying her warmth.

"I- it was lonely. I wanted some company…" she trailed off, feeling remarkably stupid. He cupped her chin, forced her to look into his eyes.

"No, don't hide." His eyes were earnest.

"It's a stupid fear." She sighed.

"No, honey, it isn't." He sighed. "You know I've a fear of enclosed spaces; you helped me through it in the Deep Roads." He knew her gentle touches to his shoulders had soothed him, even as her voice had. She'd stayed up with him during his watches, and allowed him to tentatively curl up near her, making sure to let him know he wasn't alone. "It's nice to know that you trust me to watch over you when you're afraid." His free hand now cupped her cheek, thumb caressing along the zygomatic arch.

"I trust you to watch my back, always." She whispered it, enjoying the warm, practiced touch of his hand on her cheek.

"Mmm… I'm glad." He purred it, her proximity driving away Justice for the moment. "Why didn't you wake me, though?" He looked confused.

"I tried." She smiled. "Twice. You didn't want to wake for me. And then when you did wake up, it was to snuggle me into your arms and go back to sleep."

"Snuggle?" He tilted his head. He was, he knew, a naturally affectionate creature, and he always had been. Still, how any red-blooded man could be confronted with Artemis Hawke crawling, half-naked, into their bed and merely snuggle was beyond him. Even his heart flipped at the sight of her. "I had you crawling into bed with me, dressed like that, and asked for a cuddle?" She laughed, causing his pulse to increase and adrenaline surge. He had to restrain himself from lowering his head to capture that sweetness with his lips. This woman was beautiful, intelligent, wise. Had the Maker given him creative control to design his perfect woman… well, even he couldn't have created a creature as fascinating as the woman who was tangled in his arms.

Perfect. She was bloody perfect for him, and to him.

He was, he realized, falling in love with her.

"Hey, where did you go?" He snapped back in time to see those gorgeous sea-green eyes batting at him in an adorable gesture. He laughed, lightly, before dipping in and rubbing noses with her impulsively. She giggled- the sound musically ringing through his empty clinic. "I brought breakfast. What were you so intent on?"

"Breakfast?" His eyes lit up. "What did you bring?" His focus was back on her, now. Or, more specifically, on what she may have brought him for breakfast.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She smiled impishly, pushing up on her elbows. He nudged her back down, shaking his head. She looked- right- in his bed. He didn't want her to leave.

"Stay." He rose, smiling. "I'll get it and come back here." Dark eyes flicked over her, taking in how fragile she looked in his bed, and a sudden, fierce urge to protect came over him. He sighed, though- she wasn't his, and paused to light a cone of incense before trekking out into the chill of his clinic. His eyes adjusted to the soft light filtering down, and therefore was calm when Loki raced over to leap and lick. He crouched, tousling the silky ears and chuckling. He had a fondness for the mabari- he wasn't sure why, exactly. "Where did your mistress leave breakfast, hmm?" He asked with a chuckle. I response, the dog leapt away and came back with a wicker hamper in his jowls, which Anders accepted with a cringe. "Thanks for slobbering on it, mutt." But it was said with affection, and he smoothly crossed back to the alcove which served as his 'bedroom'.

Hawke was still curled into the blankets, carelessly perusing one of his books. Her chin rested on a delicate hand, and she'd propped herself up on an elbow, looking completely at ease. He'd never seen her so relaxed, even in her own estate. Just like that, he knew he'd found home in the petite Spirit Healer. Her gaze shifted, suddenly, and she grinned as she beckoned him closer with one finger. He reclaimed his half of the bed, and she snuggled into his side instantly.

"Mmm… so this is why you smell like patchouli." She indicated the incense. "It smells like you. Warm. Enticing. Mysterious." He chuckled, nuzzling the wealth of her dark hair.

"I *think* that was a compliment, so thank you, dear one." One hand lifted the lid to the basket in his lap, and he sighed in appreciation. "Are those….?"

"Double chocolate chip muffins with powdered sugar dusting the caps? And blueberry scones?" She grinned. "They *could* be. Possibly."

"Very funny." He tried to look stern, and failed miserably. Her proximity centered him, and he chuckled as he dug into breakfast. "Maker, these are positively criminal…" his voice darkened to a sensual growl.

"I outdid myself, didn't I?" She grinned, then took a bite out of a scone. "Oh, these *are* wonderful."

"That's it, I'm spoiled on muffins for life now!" He was halfway through his second, having pounced on the food as if it were his last meal. A tiny dab of chocolate flirted with the corner of his mouth, and she found it fascinating. With his flame-hued hair free to tumble around his face and a loose, dangerously low-cut shirt, and days' growth, he was still the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He glanced up, caught her staring. "You *have* seen me eat before, Hawke., haven't you?"

"Sorry." She blushed.

"Don't be sorry- eat." He nudged the basket towards her. "Before I devour it, basket and all." He smiled, making that chocolate even more tempting…

What happened next was inevitable. Some call it fate, others chance, and, still others would call it the work of the Maker.

She leaned forward, looking like a siren, her lips ghosting over his as a clever pink tongue darted out to lick off the offending confection, a tiny sound of delight escaping her throat. His head was instantly spinning, making conscious thought impossible. One hand, of its own accord, came up to cradle her neck as he returned the kiss, deepening it. She moved closer, and his free hand snaked its way up her torso, caressing her taught stomach before continuing its assent, where it settled over the proud swell of a breast. He could have sworn she was purring like a cat, because, had he the proper vocal chords, he knew he'd have been.

Hawke was in his arms, where she belonged. In his clinic, where she also belonged.

For this one moment, all was right in the world.


	2. Soothe

**Title:** Soothe  
><strong>Author:<strong> SnowChaser  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Hawke x Anders  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Short little ficlet, not nearly as long as 'Comfort'. Also, these are in no particular order.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> The urge to soothe was always too strong for him to resist…

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><p>She'd changed her lot in Kirkwall.<p>

No longer a refugee, she was also no longer homeless, nor penniless. The sprawling estate she'd bought with the proceeds from the Deep Roads was as elegant as it was beautiful, and well suited to both the young apostate and her mother. It just… *looked* like them. It was a place of sanctuary and shelter, as well as a place of love- not just for the small family, but for all of them as well. They were welcomed there without question, nor protest.

So far, though, he was by far the one who was there most often, and he liked to think, most welcome as well. The pretty brunette lit up whenever he entered the room, no matter what topic he happened to have on his mind, or, for that matter, where they were. Often times, like now, they found themselves cloistered in her room, perched on the feather mattress, simply talking. The proximity, the very scent of her, drove him utterly mad, but he was powerless to leave the situation. Because, you see, she would touch him occasionally- a gentle hand on his bicep, or a chaste kiss on the cheek, and those light, teasing touches were enough to keep him coming back like a cat to cream.

Currently, she was half-sprawled across her bed horizontally, hair a messy fall of silk around her heart-shaped face, close enough for him to feel her body heat, but not quite touching. The relaxed pose, and the silky tresses fanned out on the red velvet coverlet made him want to stretch out beside her and bury himself in her- hands in her hair, lips on hers… but he restrained. He knew better than to behave in that manner around *his* Hawke.

"So…" she glanced up at him, propping herself on one elbow and snagging a gold stemmed goblet out of his hand, sipping deeply at the wine, and studying him over the rim. "This manifesto of yours…" her sea-green gaze encompassed a scrawled page on her writing desk, which he glanced at.

"What about it?" He cocked his head in feline fashion, one brow raised, as if curious.

"How does it keep finding its way into my bedroom?" She giggled when he froze. He could feel heat flooding his cheeks, and ducked his head slightly, as if it would somehow stop the blushing. "Maker, you're adorable when you blush."

"You're drunk." He attempted dignity, casting her a speculative glance. He missed being able to get drunk, sometimes. Hawke was one way he could live vicariously. She giggled harder, shaking her head, sending her hair in a cascade of brown and gold.

"Am not. Tipsy, not drunk."

"Like there's a difference, Temmi." He reached out to caress her hair, his touch causing her to go utterly limp against her mattress.

"Is." She sat up then, her face seeking the soft feathers on his shoulder, which she promptly burrowed into, muffling her next words. "I feel queasy."

"That's what you get for drinking at one in the afternoon," he chided as she nuzzled into him adorably.

"Mother… she drove me to it. She was mourning Bethany." She sniffed. "I'm not the daughter she wishes survived the Blight. I've never been the sweet one, or the brave one."

"Oh, sweetheart…" The urge to soothe was almost a compulsion to the Healer, and it overrode any sense of propriety he had. He lifted her easily into his lap, enveloping her in his arms and warmth. Her cheek rested on his shoulder now, and she sighed in contentment as he kissed her forehead. "You *are* both of those things, and more. You know this to be true. I'd be lost without you, dear one." He caressed her shoulder as she inhaled his calming scent.

"I should have saved my sister." She whispered it. "She was the sun to my mother, and I was moon, the lesser light. She was bright, and eager, and sweet. Beautiful, too. She got Mothers' looks." She sighed. "Spells were so easy for her. She could watch Father cast a spell, and then duplicate it. Father said he'd never seen anything like it, not even in the Circle."

"It is a rare talent," he murmured it across the crown of her head, his voice pitched to be soothing. He knew she didn't often speak of her sister. He knew, of course, that Bethany had been a mage like the beauty sitting in his lap, but precious little otherwise. He also knew that keeping things bottled up was never a wise decision, and that she was talking to him was a minor miracle. "She was a Healer, then?"

"Hmmm?" She frowned as she toyed with a tuft of feathers on the shoulder she wasn't snuggled against. "No. She was elemental, like our father. He taught her so much… so many things I couldn't learn. I got a knack for healing, but he didn't know many healing spells." A sigh. "He taught me basics, of course- it was enough of a foundation for me to keep myself hidden as an apostate."

"He loved you, Temmi. Never doubt that." He kissed her brow. "You at least had someone to help you learn on your own, who protected you from the Tower."

"He loved her more.." Her voice was soft. "This is awfully sweet, you know." She lifted her head and shifted in his lap to press her forehead to his. "You don't have to stay and listen to me bitch."

"Don't have to stay…" he actually blinked. "This isn't pity, Artemis. I'm fairly certain we've passed the 'acquaintence' phase and moved into 'friendship' by now. Friends listen to one another." His time with Kizira had, at least, taught him a great deal about friendship. His Commander… Maker bless her wherever she happened to be… had taught the selfish mage the meaning of loyalty, and friendship.

"We *are* friends." She almost whined it. "I'm queasy, and I have a headache. It makes me cranky."

"I know, sweetheart." His left hand feathered gently across her temple, leaving a trail of healing magic in its wake, before repeating the process across her abdomen. Every trace of unease, every minute ache, disappeared as he whispered against her ear, "better?"

"Mmm-hmm." She nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the patchouli, elfroot and lavender scent that was wholly Anders as if it, too, comforted her. Slender, but strong arms wrapped around his neck, and she kissed the hollow of his throat affectionately. She was utterly crazy about him, and she thought he might be for her, too, as his hands wandered. He loved when she was this close- and one large palm nearly claimed her backside before he caught himself.

"I… should go. Back to the clinic, I mean." His voice was quivering, and he was jumpy as hell. She could feel his pulse racing under her fingertips, and her gift was already trying to soothe.

"You don't have to leave." She whispered it. "Stay. I'll get off your lap and we can just talk." She shifted off him, but he stood.

"No. Temmi, I can't." He caressed her cheek. "I'll see you soon, I promise. But I can't trust myself with you right now."

"Will you be at the Hanged Man later?" She nodded. He was always running, but then, that shouldn't have been a surprise. Anders was built for speed, not stamina. He had a cagey energy, always moving, never able to stop.

"Yes."

"Then I'll see you tonight." She rose, pecked him on the cheek. And he walked out, mentally kicking himself for acting like a gentleman.


	3. Cute

**Ttile:** Cute  
><strong>Author:<strong> SnowChaser  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Anders x Hawke (very brief touches)  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Because Anders needs a cat. Who doesn't need a cat? But, yes, he needs a cat. Also, I couldn't help but give Aveline one as well. Because she's so adorably awkward, and socially inept. And because I get the feeling, deep down, that she'd grouse and whine, but adore the little beast.

* * *

><p>She enjoyed the warmer months in Kirkwall.<p>

Unlike Lothering, it was not landlocked, which provided her with two luxuries she'd never had before. One, of course, was the weather itself. There was a constant breeze coming in from the shore, keeping the humidity relatively low. It brought with it the scent of the waves; a salty tang she'd never smelled before coming here. It was an altogether pleasing scent, at least to her.

The other, of course, was that the water was always there to cool one down, should it get too hot. It wasn't like the local swimming hole in her childhood home. The water here was cooling, and inviting. There were no leeches here to watch for, no snakes to fear. She enjoyed watching the ships come in too- ships meant trade, and that meant new things for her to fawn over and explore. But, even more, she enjoyed the smiles and nods she got from most people. She was able to walk freely here, without fear.

Yes, the warm months were nice.

A wave caught her attention, and she strolled across the courtyard in response, a smile on her lips. The red-headed guard captain was, after all, one of her closest friends. However, as she drew closer, her smile began to dissolve. Aveline looked worried, her eyes full of something akin to fear, and the corners of her lips were pulled down into a slight frown. She sped up, extending a hand towards the other woman. "Aveline?"

"Oh, Hawke…" relief flooded the hardened face. "I've been looking all over for you. I stopped by your estate, and you weren't there. And you weren't in the Hanged Man."

"Is something wrong?" Green eyes searched her friend's face. "Are you hurt?" She was about to bring up her healing aura, prepared to help, when the slightly-taller woman shook her head.

"No. Oh, nothing like that." The woman frowned again. "Maker, no. It's just… do you know anything about animals?" At the raised brow, she plowed ahead. "You grew up in a farming community… of course you do. I'm sure every house had at least one."

"One what?" Now she really was concerned that her friend may have been suffering from heat exhaustion. She made a move to touch, again.

"Cat." She sighed. "Ser Donnic was on patrol when a wagon hit a cat. Made an unholy sound, he said. It was carrying a scrap of food, so he walked around for a bit until he heard crying. Found three tiny little kittens, all curled up together, crying an shivering. Brought them in with him when he came off duty."

"Kittens." Hawke felt herself soften. "Orphaned? Oh, the poor things."

"I put them in my office- I didn't know what else to do." The redhead rubbed her forehead. "They're so small and helpless. But I can't keep all three of them."

"I suppose I could take a look at them." The brunette smiled. "I'm not above taking one home for Loki to play with. And I'll get Anders, too. He misses having a cat around, so he might take one, too. Are they still at the Keep?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I appreciate this, Hawke. I couldn't bear the thought of them going to a bad home."

"Anytime, Aveline. I'll go get Anders, and meet you at the Keep in two turns of the glass."

* * *

><p>She paused outside the clinic, to put her hair into some semblance of order. She'd run all the way here, always excited to see Anders, but more so than usual today. In the heat, she rarely saw him (unless she was helping in the clinic, which was often). His attire made it nearly impossible to move about comfortably in the blazing sun, and he used that as an excuse to stay in Darktown. Once she was sure she looked at least somewhat normal, she let herself into the clinic.<p>

It was cool in here, and the scent of lavender instantly enveloped her senses. She truly loved the smell of Anders' clinic- it was a unique scent that stayed with one long after leaving it. The only occupant was the healer himself- and for that she was glad. He was working something with a mortar and pedestal, but he did look up as she entered, a smile of greeting flying across his handsome face. It was a definite improvement from the early greetings she'd been given. As she walked closer, she sniffed.

"Chamomile?"

"Your herb craft is getting better, I see." He placed the mixture down, one hand lightly running down her hair. "Are you alright?"

"Of course." She smiled. His worry for her brought a smile to her face. "Why?"

"Don't often see you when there's warmth to be had." He chuckled. "You practically worship the sun, Tem." And, he noted, her skin was golden with a tan, making her even more gorgeous.

"What, I need a reason to see my favorite apostate?" She pouted prettily.

"What? No, of course not!" He spoke hastily. "It's just… you usually have a reason to visit me. A valid one, certainly."

"I'm kidding, goldie." She saw him light up at the nickname- despite his continued protests at her attempts to get the others to use it. "But you're right- I *do* need your help. Well… not help, persay- can you leave for a bit?"

"I suppose, why?" He tilted his head in feline fashion.

"I've something to show you." He quirked a brow. "C'mon, I *promise* you'll like it, and it's nothing personal, or unethical." She pleaded.

"For your sake, I suppose I could go." He wasn't surprised to find his hand captured in both of hers. Nor was he surprised that she tugged impatiently. "Just wait- let me get my staff."

* * *

><p>"Why are we at the Vicount's Keep?" His voice was curious. Hawke had dragged him the long way around Hightown, but he couldn't truly be upset. Her hand was in one of his, and they looked like a couple. He'd caught the sly looks, and winks. Artemis Hawke was an exceptionally beautiful woman, and he was the lucky one who had her at his side. He could pretend, for now, at least.<p>

"You'll see." She glanced up with a secretive smile. "You'll not be harmed by it, certainly." She released his hand to link her arm through his, opposite hand resting on his forearm. He visibly relaxed at this display of affection, and he wondered vaguely if it was the touch or the woman which caused this reaction. She suddenly smiled, and he glanced up the stairs to see that fellow they'd rescued- Daniel, Dannic, something with a 'D'- walking towards them. He paused when he spotted them, a gentle smile playing at his lips (which Anders wanted, badly, to wipe off as the woman at his side returned it).

"Serah Hawke. Did the Captain ask you to come see about our little troublemakers?"

"Indeed." Her voice was calm, direct- without a hint of playfulness or charm. She could feel the tension in her taller companion, and wanted him to relax, so she stayed distant.

"A word of caution- the black and white has an obsession with fingers.?"

"Black and white what?" The flame-haired mage glanced at his companion.

"You'll see." She smiled as the guardsman passed, going to her toes to kiss the mage's stubbled cheek. "Don't you trust me?" She pouted- he wanted le kiss her, just to sample that sweetness.

"I *do* trust you, Temmi. More than I should, perhaps." He followed her inside, taking in the amusing sight of the Captain running down the stairs, eyes half-wild.

"Thank the Maker. Please tell me you can take the little demons!" Her voice confirmed it- the woman was out of her element. The brunette just laughed.

"Aveline, they are small and fluffy. How terrifying can they be, hmm?"

"Hawke, they are miniature Darkspawn, disguised as cute and fluffy." Exasperation. "The black and white one chewed my hand until it bled! And knocked the inkwell onto the duty roster for the next month. And then proceeded to walk across the wet ink and leave a trail…." she stopped as Hawke giggled. "It's not funny." She turned, though- a tiny tuxedo kitten was trying to follow her down the stairs, struggling with it- leaving inky paw prints in its wake.

"Awww, come here, baby!" Hawke plucked the tiny bundle off the stairs, regarding the solemn blue-green eyes. The kitten stared back, before purring and rubbing its tiny nose to her cheek as Hawke found that magic spot behind the ears. "She's adorable."

"That's Trouble." The redhead muttered.

"You named her?" Hawke raised a brow as the kitten, adventurous as all small felines were, calculated the leap from her shoulder to Anders'- and nearly missed. The tall mage just laughed, however, and caught the tiny body with a chuckle. Aveline blushed.

"She is that, and more." But she didn't blink when the kitten leapt to her shoulder, purring. She just reached up to pet, and the little creature began to knead into the armored shoulder. "I'm keeping her- she's so small and helpless." They made their way up the stairs, the kitten balancing precariously on her mistress' shoulders. "The other two are in here." She opened the door, and Hawke let loose a coo as her eyes fell on a tiny orange tabby, curled up in a pool of sunshine. A dark head peeped out from behind the desk, and Anders crouched, offering a hand for the tiny creature to sniff. Thrilled with new people to pet and pamper, the coal-black kitten bounded over, a rumbling purr escaping as the mage scratched under his chin.

"Aren't you something?" The beast gave him a slitted, feline expression of approval. "So clever, and so handsome!" He easily scooped the tiny bundle into his arms, where it mewed pitifully. "Oh, stop that. I'm not hurting you." The purring began in earnest now as he stroked the fluffy back, looking into green eyes. "They're not even weaned yet," he glanced towards the brunette, who had the little tabby in her arms. The kitten, thrilled with the attention (and the fact that the human was warm, no doubt), kneaded her shoulder, a tiny purr beginning to escape.

"Their mother died last night." She smiled as the kitten made itself comfortable. "I thought you might like one, seeing as you miss your cat, and all." She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm going to have to take this one, Aveline- he already has me wrapped around him." She stroked the downy back. Anders had, initially, thought about taking the little tabby- it looked *a lot* like Pounce- but he decided against it, seeing how comfortable the animal was with the brunette. "He's so small…" she bit her lip, then.

"He'll get bigger." Anders wanted to reassure her. The black kitten crawled onto his shoulder, readily pouncing at the feathers- to which the mage blew softly, enticing the creature to play. He chuckled at the tiny body pounced, chewing and licking once he 'killed' the movement. "Maker, I miss having a cat." He sobered. "But I can't keep one in the clinic."

"I can keep him for you." Hawke offered it without thinking. "Balder will have a playmate to keep him company, that way."

"You wouldn't mind?" He glanced up hopefully, turning unintentional puppy eyes on her. They were potent- they could make an old woman blush, or a young girl let loose a giddy squeal- and even without them, she knew she'd have said yes.

"No." She smiled as the kitten on his shoulder yawned \before settling into the warmth of his neck and falling asleep. "He's cute. What are you going to name him?"

"Purrcival." It seemed a fitting name for the kitten, as its purr was louder than the average kitten. "It seems fitting, really. Why Balder?" He glanced to the brunette.

"I named my Loki after an old god- why should I not name my cat the same? Besides, he is gentle, and will be a good companion." She smiled. "You said they're not weaned yet?"

"Not fully." He rose, the sleepy kitten on his shoulder protesting drowsily. "Shhh. We'll have to nurse them another week."

"I've done this before." Aveline smiled. "You two should get them home. Before I become more attached to them."

"Poor dears." Hawke smiled as she headed for the door. "My mother will positively adore them."

"You don't think she will mind?" He had forgotten about Mistress Hawke.

"You don't know my mother well, I know. She loves all things small and fluffy. Father was always bringing home some mangy stray, and mother would dote on it." She smiled. Her father had been quite a bit like the apostate at her side- they would have enjoyed one another. "That's how we got Loki."

"You know, the more you talk about your father, the sorrier I am I never got to meet him."

"He'd have liked you." She smiled. "And you'd have liked him." She grinned. "Have a good night, Aveline! Good luck with Trouble."

"Very funny, Hawke." But the guardswoman couldn't help the smile as she closed the door.

* * *

><p>Hawke had been right- the two newest additions to Hawke Estate were a hit. Sandal was enchanted by them, watching with wide, round eyes as they played with a length of string provided by an already doting Leandra. Bodhan watched them from the doorway, while Loki was torn between delight and terror. Anders, usually so uncomfortable in such a lavish setting, had made himself at home, sitting cross-legged on the floor and causing the string to twitch, making the game fun for the small felines. Balder, the more sedate, watched it from before the hearth, while Purrcival boldly leapt on the toy. Leandra, seeing that the kittens were entertained and that the handsome young apostate was comfortable, slipped out of the room as her daughter was coming down the stairs.<p>

"Temmi, darling." She smiled, and her daughter crossed to her. "Your friend looks like he could use something to eat."

"That's because he could. He's always sharing with his patients." She sighed.

"He's an apostate, isn't he, darling?" Shrewd eyes searched her daughter.

"Yes." No use denying it.

"Well, I like him. He reminds me of your father." At the raised brow, she smiled. "Your father had gorgeous long hair when I first met him. And he cares about people."

"He does."

"You should invite him to dinner, love." A brief pat on the cheek. "I would like to get to know him a bit better."

"I will." She smiled as she looked past her mother. Anders was laughing- a rare sound- as the kittens played with him. He looked so right there, sitting on the floor.

"That man would be at home in the poorest of dwellings to the richest. And it's not awkward, either. Quality shows, and that man is quality, my darling." She kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Do more than just look, my love. A man like that doesn't come along every day." That said, Leandra went to set the table with an extra place, leaving her daughter standing, baffled, in her wake.

It took a moment, before Hawke could recover. Once she did, she made her way into the library. "Awww, isn't that adorable?" She cooed it. "There is nothing cuter than a big man and a little kitten."

"I don't do cute, Hawke." He scoffed it, even as Balder crawled into his lap. "Hello, kit."

"I beg to differ, dear." She knelt behind her, chin on his shoulder. "I find you to be cute, and it's in the eye of the beholder, yes?" She draped her arms around him, and for once he allowed it. He was comfortable here with her, and he felt safe. One hand came up to caress her wrists with his thumb. He knew she was on her knees to match his height (she was tall for a woman, but few men reached his height, and the number of women was rarer still), but she seemed content to be with him.

"I do *not* do cute, sweetheart."

"Could have fooled me, handsome." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Mother wants you to stay for dinner- roast pork. Shall I put out another plate?"

"Pork…" his stomach tightened into a ravenous knot at the mention of food. "Love to."

"Good."

And they both smiled.


	4. Monologue I

**Title:** Monologue I  
><strong>Author:<strong> SnowChaser  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Anders x Hawke (Mid Act I)  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Since I wrote these in no particular order, I'm going to revamp the earlier chapters with time frames for context. This is a relatively new style for me to write in- I have a couple of older one-shots which are in first person, but I haven't done one in some time, so reviews on this particular chapter (or, more specifically, some constructive criticism/advice on how to potentially improve it) will be appreciated. Super short, as well.

And I need a beta reader, so I anyone is willing, it would be appreciated.

* * *

><p>I am not usually a jealous person.<p>

Make no mistake, I *am* human, and as such I have the same needs, the same emotions, as any other human being. But I grew up poor, and when you grow up the way I did, you learn to share and share alike. Jealousy does tend to fade when you're hungry- most of the time, anyway. The occasional bout, however, was petty and childish, compared to this. This… this envy was so much stronger than anything I'd felt before.

And it was all because I didn't like seeing *them* together.

She is, of course, beautiful. Exotically so, with her dark hair and skin. And those luminous gold-flecked brown iris', made even more staggering by expertly (and outrageously) applied kohl. Her attire, too, does little for her modesty- she is a vision of beauty, and her ample assets are on display. She is more curvaceous than I am- and, normally, I am not displeased with my looks. Yet, next to her, I resemble a blossoming teenager- long limbs with small swells at my bosom. Her stride is exaggerated, as though she is on permanent display, yet it is a confident stride. And her voice! It taunts and teases, promising things that are better left to dark, intimate places. The voice is husky, teasing, and those lips are full and sensual, made for kissing.

At times, I'm sure it appears I must hate her, but I don't, not truly. I love her, and her unique brand of sensuality. She is a good friend to me- one that I am not sure I deserve.

If she is the most beautiful creature I've seen, he easily takes the place as the most handsome creature I've seen in twenty-one years on this planet. He is taller than most men- taller than even my father, I think- and has the build of a sprinter. Yet, on him, it is not awkward. He fills out his frame nicely. His eyes are deep enough to drown in, if he lets you have a look- pools of molten honey. Unsure one moment, then supremely confident the next, he is a chameleon in his own right- frustratingly changeable. Yet it is this which attracts me to him- he is what I desire, what I want.

But they're standing together, heads close, talking.

"I keep thinking I know you…" his voice is soft, but there is no hint of flirtatiousness. If anything there is a curious undertone.

"You're Ferelden, right?" I *could* squeeze into the discussion here, I realize- he's from the Anderfels- but she's still talking, and I'm sure his origins are his own, so I don't. "Ever spend time at the Pearl?"

"That's it!" I can hear the smile in his voice. "You used to like that girl with the gryphon tattoos… what was her name?"

"The Lay Warden." I find myself wondering why the name was significant, but, really, it doesn't matter.

"Right. I *think* you were there the night I…"

"Oh! Were you the runaway mage who could do that electricity thing?" My attention has been piqued, at this. What 'electricity thing' was she meaning? "That was nice."

And in that instant, I get it, and I have the urge to claw her pretty eyes out. No… I want to Walking Bomb the void out of her, and then claw her eyes out. Or set her head on fire.

Maybe all of the above?

Or, hey, I can ask Merril to teach me how to boil the blood in someone's body!

But, no. I do none of these things. Instead, I find myself speaking, hoarsely. "Please stop talking. Now."

And they do fall silent, thank the Maker. Anders slips up beside me, wearing his best imitation of a wounded puppy- eyes pleading. He has discovered that I am weak when it comes to this expression on his face (really, on anyone's face), and he wields it as he would a weapon, at times.

"Hawke…" a friendly arm slides over my shoulders, the warmth a comfort, and his proximity making me feel safe. "What's wrong? Your blood pressure is up, and your blood chemistry is going haywire." Now he frowns, free hand pressing to my forehead. "No fever…"

"I'm fine." I shrug as best as I can with the weight of his arm. He looks unconvinced, and tucks me more securely against his side as he picks his steps with care. For once, I allow him to lead me.

He is all I have ever wanted.


End file.
